


red as redcurrants, gold as a lion's mane

by Amazing_E_ko



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Worldbuilding, adult children of a canon character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:05:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazing_E_ko/pseuds/Amazing_E_ko
Summary: Maia has been Emperor of the Elflands for thirty years, but when the Queen of Anvernel offers a trade of ambassadors, Maia struggles to balance his imperial duties with his role as a father.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aishuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/gifts).



As the grilles of the Alcethmeret closed behind him, Edrehasiver VII sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and let himself become simply Maia Drezhar. It was midsummer, and the sun was scorching hot, which made him long to strip off some of the imperial finery. At least here he could fan himself without worrying about propriety.

“Serenity,” one of his youngest secretaries said, bowing, “the Lord Chancellor [ [ 1 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note1) ] has sent a note.”

“Oh?” Maia said. The young man’s name was Csana, and he was, in fact, a distant cousin of Csevet’s. He had been Maia’s secretary for only three months, and was still rather apt to be intimidated. “What does Csevet want?”

“He says that with your permission, Serenity, he will drop by around seven to discuss the news you delivered to the Corazhas this morning.”

“Well,” Maia said dryly, “that should give us time to sort ourselves out.” He winked at Csana. “Is the Empress in the Burgundy room?”

“We believe so, Serenity.”

“We have something to discuss with her, and with our daughter, who no doubt is down in the kitchen. Is there anything we must urgently address before we do so?”

“Nothing that cannot wait an hour, Serenity.”

Maia nodded, and set off up the stairs to the Burgundy room, chatting as he went to Telimezh and Kiru, who were at his side today.

It had been thirty years since Maia’s unexpected ascension to the throne of the Ethuvaras, and he could not help but show it. His hair had gone steel grey, with streaks of purer white beginning to wind through it. As I get older I become more like an Elf, Maia tended to think when he looked at himself in the mirror. But more than his hair, he saw the lines around his mouth and the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes, and he felt it in his bones and joints, which no longer endured so well as they used to.

Telimezh and Kiru has aged with him, and Kiru in particular was now almost seventy. She still stood very upright, and her eyes had the same mix of steady kindness and sharp intelligence, but no one could mistake her age. Maia had, five years or so ago, tried to persuade her to retire, but she had been so deeply offended that he had never tried again. Kiru was not the retiring kind; her work was what kept her interested in the world, and nothing would ever persuade her to give it up.

\-------

The Burgundy room was small and not particularly well-favoured by the standards of the Alcethmeret. It faced north, and its windows were small and narrow, so in winter it received hardly any light at all. It had rarely been used, and Csethiro had gladly taken it over as her study. She was bent over the desk now, reading through a document [ [ 2 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note2) ] , a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched awkwardly on her long nose. She looked up as Maia entered, and smiled at him, the quirked, crooked smile that he loved best. Middle-age, he thought, suited her. The lines on her face gave it more expression, and made it look more lived in, though he would not dream of telling her so.

“Well,” she said, as he bent down to kiss her cheek. “I do not usually see thee before dinner on days the Corazhas meets. What is the matter?”

“Mmm,” Maia said thoughtfully. “It is a little complicated. Tell me, my dear, hast thou read anything in thy histories of Anvernel?”

“No,” Csethiro said. “Nothing that I did not mention when it was first announced that their queen would be paying us a visit. Why?”

Maia tilted his hand back and forth slightly in equivocation.

“I think ‘twould be best if I explained to both Shalu and thee at once. Willst come to the kitchen with me?”

“Of course,” Csethiro said, taking off her glasses and standing up. She looked at him curiously, but Maia only smiled. Then she slid her hand through the loop of his arm, and they headed back down the stairs to the kitchens of the Alcethmeret.

\------

Shalu Drazhar was the eldest child of Edrehasivar VII, now in her twenty-seventh year, and the kitchen was her refuge and her domain, as it had been since a particular imperial experiment some twenty years earlier.

Maia had had no wish to raise his children with anything like the cruel privations of his own childhood, which in any case Csethiro would never have permitted him to reenact, but he had seen how the young men and women of the Court could grow, wild and untamed in the lap of luxury, and he had been determined to avoid the same fate for his own children.

“They should know a little of what it is like to be a servant,” he had said to Csethiro, and after some thought, she had agreed with him. So it was that Shalu was sent to the kitchens, and Ocha, her brother, was sent to the pneumatic station. It was only for a few hours a week, and that only for a period of six months, when Maia decided the experiment had run its course. It would not be the only time he tried to give them another perspective, but it perhaps had the most lasting effect [ [ 3 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note3) ] . Ocha, though he had done his work dutifully and well, was happy enough to give it up, but Shalu had formed a deep love of cooking, and thereafter spent any free time she had in the kitchens. Now, at twenty-seven, she was the only non-chef that Cerna, the kitchen master, would allow use of his equipment.

Today she was making a pie, and when Maia and Csethiro entered, her hair and hands were dusted with flour, and her apron was red with berry juice.

“What meddling is this?” Csethiro said fondly.

“A redcurrant tart,” Shalu said, dusting the flour from her hands so she could reach over to touch one to her mother’s. “I’m trying something new with the limes that were brought in in the last shipment from Celvaz.”

“Sounds delicious,” Maia said, smiling at her. Of their two children, Shalu was more like him in looks, having the Drazhadeise bone structure and eyes, and Maia’s curly black hair. Her skin was paler than his, though, the colour of fog, which made the darkness of her hair extremely striking. When she wanted to, she could use her colouring to great effect, and appear as splendid as any court lady. But she preferred this, being in a kitchen in a canvas apron, with flour in her gleaming curls instead of pearls.

Maia cleared his throat slightly, and Shalu and Csethiro both turned to look at him.

“There was a certain amount of hubbub at the meeting of the Corazhas this morning, and I thought it might be best to speak to you both about it.”

Shalu tensed, instantly on the defensive.

“Is this about my marriage?” she said, bristling. “I don’t need any more old men sticking their noses into my business.”

Maia looked at her a little sadly. The marriage of daughters of the Drazhadeise was, unfortunately, something that every member of his government felt they had the right to interfere with. There had been a long lull, between the cancelling of Vedero’s marriage in the first year of his reign and Shalu’s coming of age, and Mireän and Ino had given the Corazhas nothing to complain about, since both had in fact quite happily wished for marriage [ [ 4 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note4) ] . It had been so long that the members of his government had quite forgotten what it was like to have an intractable young woman refusing marriage, supported by the gentle obstinacy of Edrehasivar VII.

“It is not about thy marriage,” Maia said, amused and resigned. “The matter concerns you only indirectly.”

Csethiro looked a little more interested.

“It has to do with news I received this morning from Barazhan,” Maia said, “and which I thought expident to bring before the Corazhas immediately.”

“Is the Great Avar in trouble?” Csethiro said, looking curious, but Maia shook his head instantly.

“Dara [ [ 5 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note5) ] is fine,” he said.

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me,” Shalu said, lifting up the pastry and setting it over the pie filling. Taking a small knife, she began carefully crimping the edges. “Or my pie.”

Maia looked at her steadily.

“Dost thou ever resent that thy brother is mine heir where thou art not?”

Shalu looked up, surprised, then turned her head down again.

“I thought we had this conversation long ago.”

“We did,” Maia said, “but I would ask again, for it sometimes weighs on me. Thou art the elder, but I never had a hope of changing all that weight of law and tradition in favour of thee. Thirty years is but a fraction of the time needed to effect that. And yet I always thought thou had an aptitude for politics as deft as Ocha.”

Shalu set down her knife and considered her parents.

“Once,” she said. “I did resent it, and thee. But these days I take my lead from cousin Idra. He always observed to me that we were luckier for having escaped the throne, for an Emperor cannot indulge his own desires.” She grinned, and for a moment looked very like her cousin. “Certainly I would not be standing here if I were thy heir.”

“What was the news from Barazhan?” Csethiro said, a little impatiently.

“It came to me by way of Ambassador Ghormened [ [ 6 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#note6) ] ,” Maia said. “You both remember, of course, that the Queen of Anvernel makes her grand tour this year.”

“She’s coming here after,” Shalu said.

“I can’t wait,” Csethiro said impishly. “I haven’t been so excited since I got to meet thy aunt, Maia.”

“Don’t remind me,” Maia said. “But Queen Ardo is what I wish to tell you of. There was always some question as to why she was making the tour, for the reason given - that she was simply taking the extended peace in her kingdom as an excuse to see more of the world - never felt convincing.”

“And that was what Barazhan sent news of?” Shalu said.

“Yes. Anvernel is a small kingdom, but a very wealthy one. It is the great trading port for all of the southern continent, and certainly neither we nor Barazhan can afford to neglect it, for better trade with them would be to everyone’s benefit. If they offer us a trade of embassies, we cannot easily refuse.”

“And are they?” Shalu said.

“Yes, but on certain conditions. The first has to do with the trade in lion girls. Queen Ardo is seeking our cooperation in ending it.”

“Well, good,” Csethiro said.

“She’s a lion girl herself, isn’t she?” Shalu asked.

“Yes,” Maia said, “though given everything I’ve heard, lion woman seems more appropriate. She has been trying to end the trading of her people as a luxury good for most of her reign, and apparently she sees this visit as the start of a new strategy. She wishes us to make it illegal for any merchant from the Ethuveras to buy or sell as lion girl as property, and to refuse to trade with any foreign merchant who does the same.”

“Well, good,” Csethiro said, bristling. “Trading in flesh is a vile practise.”

“Undoubtedly,” Shalu said, looking thoughtful. “I assume she offers very attractive trading conditions in return.”

“Oh yes,” Maia said. “Ghormenad did not describe exactly what she offered Dara, but apparently it was most appealing.”

“I still fail to see any problems,” Shalu said. “Or anything that concerns me.”

“It’s the second condition that has brought me here,” Maia said. “It concerns the ambassador. Anvernel is a strict matriarchy, a fact that it seems the government of the Ethuvaras has been at some pains to conceal from the public. Women hold all positions of government, all noble titles, all power, in fact. And so not only will Queen Ardo’s ambassador to us be a woman, but she is explicit in her demand that we send a woman to be our ambassador to her.”

Maia still found a private delight in provoking shock, and the startled looks Csethiro and Shalu gave him were worth a great deal. But then they looked at each other, and both burst into delighted laughter.

“Oh what I would give to have seen the faces of the Witnesses when you told them,” Shalu said, through tears of laughter. “It would have added years to my life.”

“They were certainly most provoked,” Maia said to her, fighting to keep from laughter himself.

“Truly, Princess,” Kiru put in, “it made our entire career seem worthwhile.”

“But,” Csethiro said, coming out of her laughter into seriousness, “what wilt thou do? What woman could the Corazhas possibly accept as an ambassador?”

Even as she spoke, her eyes flickered to Shalu, and a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face. Shalu caught it immediately.

“I?” she said, her low voice vising to a squeak. “Father, thou can’st not be serious. I am no ambassador.”

“Thou art an emperor’s daughter,” Maia said, “who shared in the education of her brother, my heir. I think the Corazhas will find it difficult to refuse thee, if I give them thy name. But,” he added at once, “I will not do so unless I am sure that it is thy wish.”

“What made thee think of Shalu?” Csethiro said.

“Her trip to Barazhan, some three years ago,” Maia said, “and the splendid recipe book she brought back. I was thinking not of which lady of the court would be best suited to the role, but of which would consent to go, when I remembered Shalu’s book.”

Shalu turned her head away from him, and finished crimping the edges of her pie. Her expression was neutral, but her ears were flat and low against her head. She added the detailing to the top, and then carefully slid it into the oven. Only then did she look back at him.

“How long would I be gone for?”

“An ambassador’s term is five years,” Maia said, “so it would be that at least. Though if thou liked it, thou might stay for as long as thou willed.”

“It’s a long time,” Csethiro said. “I suppose we might come and visit you, if things went well, but we could not promise it.” She used the plural, to encompass herself, Maia and perhaps even Ocha.

“I will think on it,” Shalu said at last. “I do not think it would be wise to make any decision before I meet Queen Ardo.”

\-----

Maia met Csevet much later that evening, to drink a cup of chamomile tea and discuss the events of the day. It was a tradition they had developed in the years since Csevet’s ascension to the role of Lord Chancellor, and besides ensuring they were on the same page with regard to matters of state, it gave them a chance to sit and talk together.

When he came in this evening, Csevet looked more tired than usual. He sat down gracefully, drank his tea, and sighed.

“Your news caused quite the stir, Serenity.” He smiled conspiratorially at Maia. “We have spent much of the day dealing with correspondence related to the choosing of our potential ambassador to Anvernel. Some members of the government and the nobility feel that this is intended as an insult, and that you should not even consider Queen Ardo’s offer of an embassy.”

Maia pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We are sorry, Csevet, for not warning you in advance of this, but as we only heard it from Ambassador Ghormened ourselves this morning there simply was not time.”

“We surmised as much,” Csevet said, looking at Maia over the rim of his teacup. He was as neat and elegant now as the day Maia had met him, though lines had carved out his face as they had Maia’s own. “We cannot help but think, Serenity, that this was some rather deft political maneuvering on Queen Ardo’s part.”

Maia felt his own eyebrows raised, his ears tilting back curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think that Queen Ardo may have deliberately let her agenda slip, knowing the close alliance that now exists between Barazhan and the Ethuvaras. She must have seen that if the Great Avar found what she was planning, he would let you know, but by doing so, he walks both himself and us into her trap.” Csevet gestured vaguely with a hand. “Serenity, you are known to favour the advancement of women in education and politics, and from Barazhan’s perspective, it seems likely that you will agree to Queen Ardo’s demands. But they cannot afford to be without an embassy to her if we have one.”

“The same is true for us, of course,” Maia said thoughtfully. “It is a double-bind, and a well-made one.” He grimaced. “We confess, we had rather been thinking of Queen Ardo as what Lord Pashavar would once have called a barbarian. We certainly did not expect her to be this politically astute.”

Csevet nodded.

“We will need to think on our choice of ambassador carefully, Serenity, for it must be someone who knows the nature of politics well.”

“As to that,” Maia said, smiling a little, “we have put certain events in motion, though it remains to be seen whether they will yet come to anything.”

Csevet tilted his head inquisitively, his ears flicking up.

“We have asked our eldest daughter Shalu if she will consider the role,” Maia explained.

Csevet thought for a moment, then grinned.

“An excellent choice, Serenity, and an option that I confess had not occured to me.”

“We do not yet know that she will accept,” Maia said, “but we are hopeful.”

They left it there, and turned to the many other matter that consumed the emperor’s time. The last of the day’s brilliant sunlight still spilled red through the window, pooling on the floor between them like a memory of the thirty years of history and friendship that lay behind them, their heads bent together as they read a letter from the prince of Thu-Tetar.

\-----

Queen Ardo arrived like a whirlwind. A huge crowd had gathered at the front of the Untheileneise Court to witness her arrival, in spite of the sun’s searing midday heat. Maia instructed some of the palace servants to make water available, lest anyone catch heatstroke in the excitement.

Maia had seen many state visits over the years, though still none was as strongly imprinted in his mind as his grandfather’s first. Queen Ardo’s was one of the strangest and most splendid. No airship for her, or even a coach - she came galloping in on her own stallion, her gleaming gold-brown hair streaming behind her like the banners carried by her soldiers. She sprang down from the white mare with an ease that Maia envied even now.

She was a tall woman, almost six foot high, and though she must have been at least forty her movements had the supple flexibility of a trained soldier. She wore knee length breeches of brilliant crimson and a white that billowed loosely, revealing a yellow undershirt. Her skin was dark, but a very different tone to a goblin’s, the colour of varnished mahogany. Maia thought her splendid, and one look at Csethiro’s face was enough to show that she felt the same.

Ardo sprang up the steps at a rapid pace. Every movement she made was full of coiled energy, and Maia thought that it would not be at all pleasant to see her angry. She held out her hand to him, and when he stretched his forward in return she caught it and shook it with intense vigour.

“Never did I think I would come here,” she said. “To the cold Ethuveras, where in winter the water freezes and falls from the sky white.” She grinned, and he noticed how long and sharp her canines were.

“We are most pleased to welcome you,” Maia said. “A banquet has been arranged, for we suspected that you would be hungry.”

“That’s right,” Ardo said, snapping her fingers. “We are supposed to use the formal. And you are correct, we are starving.”

“I am in love,” Csethiro whispered in his ear, as they were walking together towards the hall where the banquet had been laid out. “I’m leaving you to run away with her.”

Maia had to cough sharply to disguise his laugh.

“Oh my dear,” he whispered, “I knew you would like her. But I am glad you didn’t meet her twenty years ago.”

They entered the banqueting hall together. Maia had arranged for it to be laid out like a goblin meal. Other meals would follow the elvish style, but Maia had come to find goblin traditions useful for state occasions, as they gave people a chance to mingle and introduce themselves, and reduced some of the complicated negotiations around seating.

Ardo fell on the food, and ate politely but quickly, with obvious enthusiasm, tasting everything and devouring whatever had meat in it. Her focus was single-minded, and none of the elvish courtiers dared to so much as interrupt her. When she was done eating she took her glass of wine and began to move around, introducing herself to the courtiers and nobles. If she had been coached on the various members of the Untheileneise Court she had clearly not paid attention, for she did not speak only or even primarily to those of high rank. Insofar as Maia could guess, she seemed simply to choose whoever looked interesting.

Maia himself was quickly snagged by Osmer Calwin, the current head of the Clocksmith’s Guild, whose grandfather had developed and been entitled for his work on the first airships. They were deep in a discussion of a new machine the Clocksmith’s Guild was working on, a machine which reproduced writing much more rapidly than it could be copied by hand.

“We do think it has great potential, Serenity,” Osmer Calwin was saying, “though it is still in its very early stages,” when Queen Ardo strode up to them, her beautifully polished black riding boots ringing out across the tiled floor.

“Hello,” she said to Maia. “Introduce us to your companion.”

Maia bowed and complied, and Queen Ardo offered Osmer Calwin the same strange greeting she had given Maia.

“If we thought for a moment you would accept, we would invite you to return with us to Anvernel, where we could pay you your weight in gold and rubies to put your mind to work on our behalf. But,” she added, with another wolfish smile, “we are told that it is very bad manners to try and poach skilled artisans from other rulers.”

She flicked her ears dismissively, and Maia realised they were shorter than his own, the difference made up by long a tuft of brown fur at each tip.

“Does Anvernel have a Clocksmith’s Guild?” Maia asked, curious, and Queen Ardo took the invitation readily, beginning a long description of the industry in her city.

It sounded more like a dream than a real place, for even in the strangest of wonder-tales, there had been nothing like the sights Ardo described. Strange beasts with long necks and long noses, huge snakes and cows with one horn in the middle of their head, and other things that he had no way even to begin to understand. Through all of it he got a sense of Ardo the queen, and that was the most impressive thing of all. She was knowledgeable about every aspect of her kingdom, and clearly a careful steward of its well-being.

At the end of the banquet she clapped her hands and her servants brought forth a huge chest of aromatic wood.

“We wished to bring you a present, Edrehasivar VII, to show you something of our country, and to emphasise our desire for a closer connection between our two nations.”

Her servants lifted the lid of the trunk and brought out from the interior a piece of golden cloth. Maia stared as they unfolded it, realising that it was not cloth but fur, the skin of a beast he had only heard of - the lion. The skin was preserved in its entirety, including the head, whose eyes had been replaced with round chips of polished topaz. Maia found it ghoulish, and yet he could see at once why Ardo’s people were called lion girls.

“We hunted this one ourselves,” Ardo said, “tracking it alone for three days, before bringing it down with bow and arrow. Hunting lions is the sole privilege of the Queen of Anvernel, but as a result we must do it by ourselves. It is the great test of our skill and strength.”

Maia thanked her, and ordered his gift for her - an emperor clock - to be brought out, but as he spoke he could not help looking around the room, noting the expressions on the faces of the assembled elves. Many of them seemed disgusted by her, and some were struggling to conceal outright horror, but he also saw awe, and admiration, and on a few of the ladies, something that could only be called yearning.

Suddenly, sharply, Maia understood why his forebears had been so isolationist. For years, he had been slowly pushing at the traditional laws and structures of elvish society, trying to widen the space for women, for marnei, for commoners. He had made some progress, but it had been hard, and often he had despaired of success. And now, in a single evening, Ardo had laid the groundwork for change so radical that Maia himself could not be sure he saw its end.

Shalu was there too, of course, every inch the imperial princess in a pale green dress, her one concession to imperial white the pearls woven through her black hair. She had spoken to Ardo earlier in the evening, but if the queen had made an impression on her, Maia could not see it. Her face was impassive and still, and she was talking to Dach’osmin Naravar, an old friend of hers. Either she had not yet made any decision, or she did not want him to know what her decision was. And in either case, Maia did not feel that he could fault her.

\-----

Ardo’s stay made the royal family many times busier than it usually was, as they attended the various entertainments and festivities arranged for her, and tried at the same time to keep the government running smoothly. Ocha in particular took on as much of the administrative work of government as he could, to reduce the load on his father’s shoulders. He was a most dutiful son, more like Csethiro in looks but with skin almost as dark as Maia’s and yellow eyes that he must have inherited from some distant relative of Chenelo’s. He had been married the year before, to the daughter of the Prince of Thu-Athamar, and they were expecting a child, so Maia was doubly grateful for his current efforts, knowing that they took him away from his heart.

Shalu played her part just as willingly, serving as a near constant escort to the Queen, but it was not until a week had passed and the Queen’s stay was halfway over that she came to speak privately to Maia. By that point, the Corazhas was in a complete panic about the prospect of a female ambassador, and even Csevet was antsy, going so far as to suggest that Maia speak to his daughter on the topic. But Maia refused. He did not understand Shalu’s reservations, but he respected her right to have them, and he knew from long experience how much of the Drazhadeise obstinacy Shalu had. Any attempt to force her hand would only make her dig her heels in more deeply.

When she did come to him it was late in the evening, and Maia was in his study, reading through a stack of his most urgent correspondence and assigning secretaries to reply to it.

“May I come in, Father dear?” Shalu said quietly, standing in the doorway. She was still dressed in all her court finery, her red gown set off with rosewood tashin sticks and chips of garnet.

“Of course,” Maia said, nodding to his secretaries to give them the room. Cala and Beshelar were with him tonight, and they greeted Shalu fondly. “What is’t thou wishes to say?”

Shalu sat down, but did not look directly at him.

“Thou knowest,” she said, mild and thoughtful, “it is very hard to offer any criticism of thy parenting. When one compares thee to thy father, I become quickly aware of how ridiculous it is to have any complaint at all.”

“It is not a matter of comparison,” Maia said, but Shalu waved him away.

“The only thing I can think is that I have sometimes felt as if Ocha and I were something of an experiment on thy part. Thou hast spent all these years testing policy after policy, trying to guide the Ethuveras in the right direction, and there were times when it seemed Ocha and I were but another part of that same great trial.”

Maia said nothing. Shalu’s shoulders and ears were stiff and unmoving, but her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Out of the corner of his eye Maia noticed Cala raise an eyebrow in question, and he gave a very slight shake of his head in response. Whatever was happening, he needed to let it happen.

“I never dreamed that the whole wide world held a woman like Ardo,” Shalu said, when her breathing was steadier again. “She is truly splendid, and part of me longs to simply say yes, so that I can go and see the place that made her. But father, I have to know: art thou doing this as part of thy experiment? Am I discordant element in thy plan, because I will not marry, because I would rather cook a dinner than dance? Art thou sending me away?”

She did not succeed in controlling herself this time, and the tears began to slide down her cheeks. She fumbled for her kerchief, but before she could find it, Maia stepped forward and gave her his. He looked up into her crying face, and felt a deeply complicated emotion sweep over him. It contained pain, because she was in pain, and grief, because he had caused that pain. He felt relief, too, that this was the sum of her fears, and even a strange kind of happiness that she trusted him enough to let him see her pain.

“I would never send thee away,” Maia said. “If thou wishest to stay, thou needst only say the word. I will fight for thee forever. No, I will not send thee away. But if thou didst want it, I would let thee go.”

Shalu sobbed a little more, and then leaned down to fling her arms around him and sob into the crook of his neck, as she had done when she was a small child. Over her shoulder, Maia saw Cala and Beshelar smiling at each other.

Shalu calmed herself quickly, and stood up to drop a curtsey to Cala and Beshelar.

“We thank you for putting up with our temper, as you have done throughout our childhood.”

“Princess, it is not an imposition,” Cala said gently.

“We think you will make an excellent ambassador,” Beshelar added warmly, though because it was Beshelar, and even thirty years could only change him so much, he added, “though we are not entirely convinced Queen Ardo deserves the honour of your service.”

\-----

The Corazhas did not fight Maia on the nomination of Shalu as ambassador to Anvernel, though Maia suspected that some of them were shocked that he would allow his daughter to go to such a strange and barbarous country. The exchanging of ambassadors was a public ceremony, attended by much of the court. Shalu looked splendid, standing tall and proud between Maia and Queen Ardo.

“You will do very nicely,” Ardo said, grinning and catching both of Shalu’s hands to shake them. “We will certainly enjoy working with you, and we think you will love Anvernel. And you will get to meet our daughter and heir, Princess Ceriän, who we think you will like very much.”

The ambassador from Anvernel to the Ethuveras, who was a cousin of the Queen, bowed to Maia and smiled at him. She was almost as tall as her queen, but her hair was darker and her skin a little lighter, and she had dressed herself an elegant elven gown of pale blue, her hair pinned in the traditional style and decorated with the most enormous pink pearls Maia had ever seen.

“Serenity,” she said, her voice husky and sweet, “we will be most pleased to work with you here.”

Maia could not help but feel the same.

\-----

Maia and Csethiro said goodbye to Shalu on a brilliant summer day, full of wind and fast-moving fluffy white clouds. The terrible flat heat had broken, and the Court and the city of Cetho below were alike full of people taking advantage of the balmy weather. The Queen, her retinue and Shalu climbed onto their horses, the Queen again in her flamboyant red breeches, Shalu in a riding gown that Maia would have called daring before he met the Queen. He and Csethiro cried, of course, but they were smiling when at last Shalu rode away with the queen, kicking up a cloud of fine yellow dust about them.

“She will be fine,” Maia said to Csethiro.

“She will be more than fine,” Csethiro said. “She will be splendid. And when they tally up all the ways that thou helped to change the Ethuvaras for the better, I think she will not be counted as thy smallest accomplishment.”

\-----

**Footnotes:**

 

1 Csevet had become Lord Chancellor some ten years earlier, upon the sudden but not entirely unexpected death of Lord Berenar. Maia had given him a title some years earlier, in preparation for the role they both knew he would one day assume. There had been some hubbub over this, as not only was Csevet not nobly-born, he was openly marnis, but Maia had refused to hear any of it, and Csevet had handled the role of Lord Chancellor with such excellent skill that his detractors were soon quieted, if not entirely silenced.  [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return1) ]

2 Though Csethiro loved her children without reservation, she had been quite explicit about the fact that two was more than enough, and after the birth of Ocha had focused herself on her studies of history. She had written one volume and was working on a second, about the history of the Ethuveras before and during the reign of Edrevenivar the Conquerer. [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return2) ]

3 The most notable of Maia’s other attempts had been the time he sent the children to a school in Cetho. It had required much careful collaboration between the school, the children and their guards to ensure that they went unrecognised, and the whole event had lasted only a month, but both children remembered it fondly, and Maia remained privately convinced that it had been worth the effort. [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return3) ]

4 Mireän had made an unobjectionable but not spectacular match, to one of the Celedada sons. Maia would have objected to it a little had it not been so clearly a love match. He still remembered vividly the moment Mireän had come to him at seventeen, begging him to let her marry. He had made her wait six months, not quite trusting the passion of such a young woman, but the Drazhadeise obstinacy had served her well, and Maia had quite gladly capitulated. Ino’s match had taken longer. She had set off for university with a vow never to let romance interfere with her studies, which she had upheld for three years successfully. Then, in her fourth year, she had met the eldest son of the Prince of Thu-Evresar, and within a month had been pleading for Maia’s permission to marry him. The Corazhas had been delighted, and Csevet had been inundated with correspondence from everyone, congratulating Maia on the brilliant match. He had found it all very privately amusing.  [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return4) ]

5 Maru Sevraseched, the last Great Avar, had outlived all of his enemies and most of his friends, dying at the age of ninety-eight some thirteen years into Maia’s reign. He had been succeeded by the younger child of one of the Avarsin, Dara Iverestined. Dara’s victory had been in part thanks to his connections to the merchants who traded with the Ethuveras, and in particular thanks to their access to technology and weapons developed by the Clocksmith’s Guild. As a result, he had sought to continue the strong relationship between Barazhan and the Elflands, and though Maia would not have called him a friend, it was nevertheless an amicable relationship.  [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return5) ]

6 It was generally held that if any single person was responsible for the close relationship that had developed between the Elflands and Barazhan, it was Ghormened, and though he was now closer to eighty than seventy and his post was in reality mostly handled by his staff, he staunchly refused to let go of it. Maia was in many ways quite grateful for this. Ghormened was astute, but he was not unpredictable, and Maia found him quite a comforting bulwark amid the changing faces of his government. By contrast, the ambassador from Pencharn had changed five times in the last thirty years, and Maia had yet to like a single one of them. [ [ return to text ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8980939/edit#return6) ]

**Author's Note:**

> This fic felt like a little bit of a risk - it was inspired by one of your prompts, but it deviates off into my own territory, and if you didn't already have a main fic, I would have felt more wary of gifting it to you. Children are always a tricky inclusion, but I really didn't see a way for this story to work without them, and I do hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I am indebted to this wonderful guide: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4579026?style=disable&view_full_work=true for the footnotes, without which I probably wouldn't have got this done on time.


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